


of the flesh

by NatsuKyoya (Sherloaf_and_Beljohn), Sherloaf_and_Beljohn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Kissing, Love Bites, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Party, Truth or Dare, Ushi and Oikawa are friends, and attend the same university, since there's alcohol involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 14:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloaf_and_Beljohn/pseuds/NatsuKyoya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherloaf_and_Beljohn/pseuds/Sherloaf_and_Beljohn
Summary: in which you like things a little rough and ushijima expresses an interest





	of the flesh

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhnnnn i'm getting into haikyuu again and have been crying over my favorites. ushijima is one of them (obvs). he's so pure and UGH i love him. i hope he's not too ooc in this.
> 
> also i have no idea how drunk people act someone save me

Alcohol lingers in their air, stinging your nose and you take a swig of beer, swirling it in your cup. The deep bass pumping from speakers throughout the room is powerful enough to faintly vibrate the couch you're sitting on. 

Among the people gathered are two of the university's beloved athletes: Oikawa Tooru and Ushijima Wakatoshi. They're sitting together; Oikawa is probably bickering one-sidedly about something with Ushijima, and you glance over at the ace, who looks as impassive as ever. It must be strange for him to be in a place like this; honestly you never really pictured him to be the type to party. He just seemed like a lightweight, but maybe that's because you’ve yet to see him actually drink anything tonight. Maybe Oikawa just dragged him here. 

Speaking of Ushijima, you wonder if you should say hi. It's not uncommon for you to spot him when you're at work and you're friendly enough, but you aren't quite sure if he really knows who you are, despite being in similar courses together. Still, you'd felt a pleasant rush of adrenaline when he'd followed Oikawa inside the room. Knowing Ushijima was here in a casual setting made excitement flare in you. Had this party been better advertised you're sure half of the people here alone would've come to see Ushijima drink. Or at least participate in dumb college party games. 

As if reading your thoughts, the olive-eyed ace locks eyes with you. Your own eyes widen slightly in surprise, but you recover quickly, waving with a smile. He nods in return. Oikawa, who'd seen the exchange, elbows him, lips moving. 

You can't hear much over the music or other people chatting in small groups, but someone suggests a game of truth or dare and a good amount of people gather in the center of the room. Too lazy to move, you join in and are one of the first people to go. 

"[Last], truth or dare?" 

"Truth," you reply over the lip of your cup. 

"Goin' the safe route, huh?"

"We can't just start on a dare, there's gotta be proper build-up!"

"Is it true you like it when your partners get frisky?" they ask with a toothy grin, wiggling their eyebrows. You roll your eyes, shifting in your seat. All eyes are on you, and if not for the alcohol working through your system you would definitely want to die right then and there. 

"Wait, wait, wait, _you_ like it _rough_?" someone exclaims among whistling and cheers. "I thought that'd be more of an Oikawa thing." The setter's protests are drowned out by a ripple of chuckles and barking laughter from the other partygoers. 

"What happened to a proper build-up?" another protests. You smile coyly. 

“Well, if I can't feel anything the morning after what's the point? Go big or go home” you joke with a lopsided smile. “Like you don't have any weird kinks too.” If the hollering and continued whistling is anything to go by, you figure a good handful of other attendees agreed with your sentiment. Across the dimly lit room, out of the corner of your eye you see Ushijima staring at you. Maybe he's just surprised by this side of you; this part of you he doesn't see in class. 

From across the room, Oikawa gives you a smirk, and you raise an eyebrow at him, taking another sip of your drink. He nods his head a little, gesturing for you to join him and Ushijima on the couch. There's probably enough room for you to squeeze between Ushijima and the arm of the couch, but you're comfortable where you are, and after your turn the last thing you want to do is sit beside Ushijima, someone who's opinion you value a little more than you'd like to admit. 

Your eyes flicker to the ace, but you can't look at him for more than a few seconds before your gaze is drawn downward. He's still looking at you. Has he been staring since you last glanced over? Your hand tightens a little around your cup. 

"M'kay then, [Last], it's your turn to ask!" 

You grin against your cup, eyes scanning the circle for the next victim. 

"Hey, Katsumi, truth or dare?" you ask coyly. 

"Truth, truth; no way I'm giving any of you assholes blackmail against me." 

"You gotta even it out, c'mon," you pout, but relent. "You got the hots for any of the professors?"

"D-damn you...." 

The night continues on, occasionally someone will shriek at a particularly evocative question, and people have their phones out to record all the dares. The clock on the wall ticks and soon 11PM rolls around. You have work the next morning, alcohol is making your brain fuzzy, and judging by the heightened atmosphere and increased amount of drunken yelling, now is probably a good time to leave. 

There’s a small group of people passing out beers, but you’ve hit your quota for the night and refuse the one offered to you with a slight shake of your head. 

“C'mon, just one more beer,” the boy slurs with a pout, jutting it out in your direction. “This party is jus' gettin' started.” 

“Not while I have work tomorrow, bud, sorry about that,” you smile. “I should get going anyways; if I stay any longer then things are gonna get rough.” 

“Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?” someone teases with a wide grin. Heat crawls up the back of your neck and you shoo them away with a frantic flick of your wrist, a burst of sheepish laughter escaping you. 

“You want me to walk you back? All the crazies are out and about this time of night,” your friend offers. You shake your head. 

“Nah, I'll be okay. I've got my pepper spray. And I'm fast."

“If I don't hear from you in twenty minutes I'm calling a SWAT team,” she threatens. 

You salute her with a clumsy grin. “Yes ma’am.” You wave goodbye to your friends and throw on your coat and shoes. The cold air makes your skin prickle, a gust of chilly wind whistling through your hair and you shiver; body already craving the warmth back in the dorm. 

You hear and see a few other groups of students stumbling about, some yelling at the top of their lungs, others belting out off-key notes to ‘Let It Go’. Your dorm is about a fifteen minute walk, ten if you hurry, but the pathways are a little slippery and the sudden plummet in temperature makes your limbs awkward and sluggish. 

No one else really bugs you; a few people cross paths with you but don't initiate conversation, which you're grateful for. Your head is swimming slightly. It's not like you had a lot to drink; you're tipsy at most, but you've been lacking in the sleep department lately in favor of work and class. Nothing sounds more appealing than sleeping in a warm bed. 

Well, that and figuring out who's walking behind you without turning around. Apprehension buds in your gut; should you go into one of the buildings and change your direction completely? But what if they follow you? Oh man, maybe you should have accepted your friend's offer to walk with you. Or at least asked if anyone else had been planning on leaving. Damn. 

The footsteps are weightier than yours, slightly quicker. Your blood is chilly in your veins despite the warmth on your cheeks from the alcohol. Tingles work their way down your arms to your fingertips. You reach into your pocket, fingers fondling the small plastic pepper spray container. It calms your nerves a little, but the footsteps are almost upon you; you can practically feel the person's eyes digging into the back of your skull—

You whirl around, knuckles catching the fabric of your pocket and you raise the pepper spray and prepare to roast whoever the hell is—

“Ushijima?” you burst out, bewildered. His gaze is no less piercing, in fact, you think it's probably worse now that you're out in the cold and alone with him. 

“We live in the same dorm,” he says, and your mouth forms a small ‘o’. 

“We do?” you ask smartly. He nods. “You scared the hell out of me, don't just go sneaking up on people like that or they might freak.” 

“You said you were fast, and you have pepper spray,” he replies, eyes flickering to the small container clutched between your fingers.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you implying that you were expecting to be pepper sprayed?” 

“It occurred to me,” he admits, falling into step with you. You make a small noise of amusement, stuffing your hands back into your pockets. He certainly doesn't _seem_ drunk; there's no awkward gait to his step, he didn't even sound that slurred, but maybe that's because his voice is already ridiculously deep. 

Another gust of cold wind hits, feels like it goes right through your coat and a violent shudder passes through you. 

“Your jacket is ill-suited for this weather,” he remarks. 

You pout into the collar. “Fashion over comfort,” you murmur into the fabric. Out of the corner of your eyes he raises his arms, shuffles a bit, and then something warm and soft wraps around your neck. “Wha—“ your hands come up to touch the scarf as he finishes tying it. 

“You look cold,” he says, and you gape slightly at him, bewildered. Still, you mutter a thanks and turn your gaze down, nose tickled by his scent and the lingering odor of alcohol. Your neck is at least a lot warmer, and warmth that isn't from the scarf or the alcohol in your system travels up to your ears and cheeks. His scent is comforting, a hint of cologne and something else and you breathe deeply against it, relishing the soft material. The rest of the walk back is quiet between the two of you; all conversation starters have fled you. Except for one question. 

"So... crazy party, huh?" you ask lamely. Whoop-dee-do. What a great way to start a conversation. 

"It was very chaotic." He says simply. 

"They can get even more chaotic. But I'm... surprised, to be honest," you say, "I never really pegged you as the party type." 

"I'm not," Ushijima's eyes flicker down to your face. "That was the first one I'd been to."

"Really?" you exclaim, voice climbing half an octave. "I mean, I guess that makes sense. So... what made you want to go to this one?" 

"I—"

"Whoaaa, hey guys what're you doin'?" A group of boys push open the doors to your dorm. "It's cooooold as shiiiiiit, bruh."

"We're coming in from a night out," you push past them. Ushijima follows. They whistle. 

"Get it, dudes, use protection!" they call. You hurry down the hall, cursing under your breath. Ushijima follows you up the stairs silently. It occurs to you that you have no idea what floor he lives on. You've never seen him on your floor, so he must be above or below you, right? But still he walks behind you. The back of your neck tingles; you feel the weight of his gaze on your skin. 

"Um, thanks for walking me back to my room, Ushijima," you say, pulling out your keys as the two of you approach your door. They jingle as you insert the key into the lock, and open the door with a slight creak. You're grateful for the darkness; your room is a little messy, and though he probably wouldn't care, it doesn't stop you from feeling conscious about it. "Oh, wait, your scarf," you unwind it from around your neck. Cool air circles your skin and you hold it out to him with a grateful smile. "Thanks again for letting me borrow it." 

He doesn't take it, doesn't say anything, just stares down at you and you wonder if he really is drunk and about to pass out. The hallway is quiet save for your soft breathing. You repeat his name in a slight whisper, confusion tilting your voice. Finally, he raises his hands; you return the gesture, holding out his scarf. Instead of taking it from you, his hands—you're just realizing how large they are—reach past your own and land on your shoulders. 

"I want to kiss you." 

Your mouth falls open. "Ushi—" With a light shove, you're pushed back into the darkness of your room. Your hands, which had been holding out his scarf, are now clenching around the fabric. "What are you—" his body blocks the light streaming from the hall and as he dips his head you feel the wall hit your back before his lips are upon yours. A muffled noise of surprise is the most reaction you can muster; you're frozen in place. His hands are warm against your shoulders and the exhalations from his nose tickles your face. In the back of your mind you wonder if this is a dream. 

His mouth moves against yours, and the sensation draws a muffled gasp from you. "Ushi—wait—" you turn your head away with a breathy gasp, head swimming. "Ushijima, wha-what—"

"I just kissed you," he says quietly, as if you were having trouble with _what_ that was, rather than _why_ he did it. His voice is low, rumbling. It sends vibrations down your arms and spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand in response. 

"I get _that_ ," you hiss, hands pressed against his chest. "But w-why did you—"

"Oikawa said if I wanted to then I should," he blinks. "The timing seemed right. Was I wrong?" 

"Oikawa said that?" you breathe. "Jeez, I can't believe..." His fingers catch your chin, tilting your face towards him and your lips part with a small, breathy exhale. "Ushijima, I—" 

"I want to touch you," his voice rumbles in his throat; your whole body is warm, burning and tingling where he's touched you and you can't _breathe_ — "I like you." 

Every part of you is short circuiting. He dips his head and you cover his mouth with your palm. 

"You really, really don't waste time, do you?" you choke out. "Are you being serious right now? You're not drunk are you? Now that I think about it I didn't even see you drink—"

"Earlier you asked why I went to that party," he pulls your hand away from his mouth, holding onto it. You feel his lips move against the back of your hand as he speaks. "I went because of you." 

You could pass out. "Wh-what—"

"Oikawa told me you would be there," he continues, eyes locked onto your face. "So I thought it would be a good chance to tell you my feelings." He leans down slowly towards you, almost hesitant. Ironic, considering he went for it the first time. You squeeze your eyes shut, heart caught in your throat and prepare to feel his lips on yours again. But this time he doesn't kiss you. A waft of breath against the base of your throat is all the warning you get before teeth sink into your skin. 

A squeak of pain emits from your throat and there's a deep rumble in his chest in response. His tongue moves against the indents in your skin and you whimper, feeling him suck the area firmly. A harsh exhale leaves your mouth and you cling to his shirt. "Ow— _fuck_ —" you hiss through gritted teeth. 

He pulls away, tongue swiping across his lip. "You said you had to feel it in the morning didn't you? 

"I-I was obviously being sarcastic!" You protest, wincing at the sharp throbbing pain in your throat. Pushing on his chest does nothing; your arms are too feeble to even budge him. 

"You didn't sound sarcastic," he says, blinking. 

"Well, forgive me for saying this, but you aren't really the master at picking up sarcasm,” you murmur, desperately looking anywhere but his face. 

His head tilts. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You might be right.”

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, how do you even go from kissing to confessing to _biting_?" you demand, voice pitched with slight indignation and confusion. 

"Apologies. I got ahead of myself," he says, moving back slightly. "But what I said is true."

"Which part...?" you ask warily. 

"All of it," he replies readily. Your hand comes up to rub the area where he bit, and you wince. "I apologize if it hurt," he says. 

"I-it's fine, I mean, I didn't... hate it," you mutter, face burning. "Ushijima, I want what you want, but... maybe not tonight?" He blinks down at you. "I mean, of course maybe you're just doing this because you're probably a little drunk and I'm definitely a little tipsy, so..."

"I didn't kiss you or mark your neck because I'm drunk," he says. The bluntness of his statement has you reeling slightly. Damn, shouldn't you be used to this? "I meant what I said." 

Finally, you look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed slightly. "Ushijima, I like you, too." And you step forward, pressing your face against his chest. He's warm, almost as warm as you. Your fists curl around his jacket. Maybe the alcohol is making you hallucinate this whole event. 

But no part of your brain could have imagined the feeling of his hand resting on your lower back, pulling you towards him. Your brain couldn't have imagined how it would feel for him to move your hair away from the nape of your neck, nor for the tingling down your spine when he exhales on your skin. Your brain _definitely_ couldn't simulate the sensation of his teeth digging into your throat again, nor could it have imagined the deep, satisfied rumble in his chest when you let out a small, muffled whimper. 

"Ushijima," you breathe, and the hand that'd pushed away your hair tilts your head up. You look at him through your lashes. You feel small, vulnerable with two very obvious bite marks on your neck. "Do you... wanna stay over? Just for sleeping, I mean, I have work tomorrow and we should probably hold off until we're sober, I mean I know you said you weren't drunk but—"

"Okay," he replies, and you smile tiredly in response. 

"I have a mattress pad, but it's not that soft."

"I don't mind," he says, and you pull away from him, going to shut the door. With room plunging into complete darkness, your eyes can adjust a lot better, and you shrug off your jacket, hanging it on a hook by your door. "Um... make yourself at home, I guess," you tell him. He removes his jacket in silence, and you hang it on top of yours. You should change into pajamas, you should get ready for bed properly, but you're so tired and Ushijima's added warmth beneath your comforter is so soothing your eyes struggle to remain open. 

You know any embarrassment you should be feeling now is dulled from your exhaustion, so for now you make yourself comfortable against Ushijima's hulking chest, breathing in his scent, the same scent that clung to his scarf. 

"I like you, Ushijima," you murmur, fading in and out of consciousness. His hand smooths back your hair. A breathy sigh leaves your mouth as his fingers trace over the marks on your neck. You fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, to his scent, to the feeling of his calloused, warm fingers against your skin. Never before have you felt so safe.

...

The next morning, you're woken up by the ringing of your alarm. You roll over with a muffled groan, and stiffen when your leg touches someone else's. Eyes flying open, you see Ushijima's sleeping face. It's different somehow than his usual emotionless expression; there's something about the way his face is relaxed that makes your pulse spike. 

The incessant ringing of your phone forces you to turn your attention elsewhere. With a low grumble and a throbbing head, you slide out of bed, feeling around for your phone on the ground. You silence the alarms and rub the sleep from your eyes. 

Ushijima shifts slightly; you look back at him in time to see him shift onto his back. His left hand slides across the empty space you left behind. His open blearily and he stares at the ceiling for a few seconds. 

"Morning," you greet, voice thick with sleep. "Sorry, did I wake you?" He mumbles something unintelligible. Shifts a little more, and with a small laugh to yourself you realize he probably isn't the happiest morning person. "I have to get ready for work, but you can leave whenever," you tell him. You walk over to the bed, peering down at him. "Do you have practice today? It would be bad if the coaches got upset at―"

A hand grabs your arm, and you yelp as you're tugged back onto the bed. Ushijima mutters something else, but his voice is too heavy with sleep and he buries his face in your arm. 

"Ushijima, I have to get ready for work," you protest. No response. You bow your head by his ear. "Wakatoshi-kun, I have to go," you whisper. His eyes open, and you can't help but smile at the little crease between his brows. His hand reaches up, traces the marks on your throat. A shudder passes through you. 

"I want to stay with you a little longer," he says slowly. You avert your gaze, teeth working your bottom lip. "I'll go apologize with you if I have to."

"N-no, you don't need to do that―you probably shouldn't do that," you add, and sigh. "I... I guess I can stay a little. But I'm not going to sleep again! I can't miss work if I want to be paid." With that, you settle back under the covers. Ushijima clings to you unexpectedly; you never expected someone so cold and expressionless to be such a cuddle bug. 

You glance at the window; the sun had barely started to rise, sending streaks of gold and orange between the cracks of your curtain. 

Needless to say, you fall asleep once more, the warmth and presence of Ushijima much more appealing and comforting than any amount of time outside in the freezing winter air.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! sorry if the ending was rushed, it took me a while to figure out how i wanted to end it. GAH i really hope he's not too out of character... (。•́︿•̀。)
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
